The Demons in Your Shadow
by fashiongirl97
Summary: A simple conversation by Scarlett's bedside leads to a little bit of honesty - for the first time in too long.


**Disclaimer **_Nashville is not mine_

* * *

_**The Demons in Your Shadow**_

"How is she?" Rayna questioned, walking into the high class hospital room where Scarlett lay asleep. The girl who had had her uncle wrapped around her little finger since the moment she was born. The girl Rayna had tried to mother and nurture, the girl who had a past that so few people knew she was running from. The girl, who, if things had gone differently would have been Rayna's niece.

Deacon looked up, his eyes blurred with sleep, his face accented with two day old stubble. His jeans fit perfectly, his plaid shirt brought out his eyes, and those scuffed cowboy boots brought back a million and one memories. Rayna knew she shouldn't be thinking about how those boots had looked kicked off on her bedroom floor, or how his shirt had felt against her skin. She shouldn't be seeing him in _that_ light. After all, she was with Luke, and she was there for Scarlett. But she also was painfully aware that she would always see him as more than just a friend; more than just an old flame, because that flame was still yet to be extinguished. Neither one of them had ever managed to build up the courage to blow it out, nor had anyone else for that matter. "Doctors say she's fine - not an addict." The last word was almost spat out, like he blamed himself, which she knew in part he did. Deep down Rayna also believed that he had been right when he had blamed _her_. In the infamous singer's eyes, when she had signed the blonde haired girl all those months ago, she had put herself in a position where she would be the girls protector - from anything the industry was about to throw at her. Yet now she was in a hospital bed, which simply meant that Rayna had failed. "I guess that was what I was most worried about, you know? That it runs in blood."

"She's smarter than that Deacon; she's smarter than all of us."

"Ain't about brains though is it?" The singer just shook her head, both of them were all too aware of that. Walking forward she handed him one of the peach coloured plastic cups filled with a brownish looking liquid the machine claimed was coffee. However she was pretty sure she'd seen bits of vegetable from the soup option floating around in it. But it was an excuse to be in the room when he was.

He nodded in response to the drink, thanking her without words. He moved to sit on the end of Scarlett's bed, protecting her. Just like once he had stayed with her to fend off the monsters under the bed, now he stayed there to fend off the accusations, the hurtful words and the pressure. Neither one of them said anything for a while, both just looked at her.

The long blonde hair tied into a plat, the look of exhaustion that even in sleep washed over her innocent face. The girl had talent, she had balls and she had demons. They were what the best artists have. You need demons to run from, to keep you going and to write about in your songs. Rayna had her mother's death and her father's disapproval. Deacon had his father and the drink. But you need to have something else too. Not something you can fake, not something you can name either. Just a certain _something_. The thing that stops you letting those demons win. Whether that be changing your name like she did, or moving cities like deacon did. There is something.

There has to be, or else you break.

Rayna, in her heart, knew that had Beverly not turned up, then Scarlett would not be in that bed. Singing to a crowd is one thing; singing to what you've run from is another. It's like throwing gasoline on a forest fire. It took her years to sing in front of her father. Years and years. Even at the end, when she had sung with Maddie and Daphne it had been hard. All those memories had swarmed around her. Like a plague of wasps waiting and taunting her, wanting to prick her skin with their sting and make it all too much.

Scarlett was too young to have to deal with that yet.

"I was wrong Ray, when Beverly was going on at me earlier, I realised that she sounded just like I did. It's not your fault that she's here." Deacon stated, but his eyes never left Scarlett. His eyes not once strayed from the sleeping form on the bed.

"I just, I can't think that it isn't my fault. That if I'd been out there with her, I would have seen it. I would have been able to stop her freaking out over Beverly - hell I've had to deal with her for twenty years. I-" she cut herself off, looking over at Scarlett and thinking what if it have been Maddie? Or Daphne? She felt for Scarlett, she always had. Ever since she held her small fragile form in her arms for the very first time all those many years ago. When she had seen the brightness in Deacon's eyes at the sight of the bundle of joy. The day she had first wondered whether they would have their own family one day.

A question that had haunted her for well over a decade.

"Ya can't blame anyone Rayna, maybe if we had all done summort else she might not be here. But she is, because of whatever it was that caused it." He had realised recently, thanks to his sister, that in fact he was blaming her for everything. That anything he could hold against the infamous Rayna Jaymes, he was. Anything he could throw at her, ignore her for he was. But this...

Deep down he knew that all his former writing partner had tried to do was give Scarlett the opportunities that she deserved. Once he had told her that, silence spread out between them. Both of the singers were caught up in their own thoughts. Memories of the past, memories of the last time they had been in hospital rooms after the crash. Memories of all those times that they had spent in the sterile white walls back when he was a drunk and she was at his side for what they both thought would be eternally.

There were some parts of their relationship, hours, days, even weeks, that he would never remember. The fact he had proposed to her and didn't remember was his biggest regret. He'd never admit that to anyone, especially now that Coleman had gone. But that ring still haunted him, the thought, the memory of her telling him how he had asked; it all still scared and taunted him.

"I think she wants out Deacon." Rayna said, looking up from under her mop of red hair. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "She's so determined to please me, to do what I want her to, that she's not doing it for her anymore."

"Are you doing it for you anymore?"

She was taken aback by the question. For what seemed like an eternity they had danced around any personal questions. Instead choosing to talk about other people and work. So Rayna didn't, at first, know how to answer. "It's the only thing I know how to do, the only thing I've ever done. But I don't know for how much longer the industry will have me. I put everything into Highway 65; if this album doesn't do well when it drops, then I lose my house. I'm beginning to think that maybe Tandy was right, and it was a foolish idea."

"How did the single do?"

"Beet to the top by Will Lexington, the very artist I found and had snatched out from under me."

"It was a damn good song too."

"Yeah, it was."

Silence again. Or at least all but the sound of the machines softly beeping, and the voices outside of the door. It was a place that saw more celebrities each day that the walk of fame had stars. If you walked down the corridor you were almost guaranteed to see a face you would know. The reason was that it was the best; that everyone came there because they knew that it never went any further. That was why Rayna had taken Deacon there so many times.

Yet Deacon couldn't remember if she had brought him here back in the day, but he guessed that he would have resided in one of the beds at least once. No doubt paid for by Rayna. Sometimes he wondered how much she had spent on his health, only for him to throw it away again. Sure back in the day number ones were written between desert and coffee. Money wasn't a worry. But that wasn't the point. Recently he'd wondered about giving her the money back, investing it in her label. Then he'd remember what she had kept from him and throw the idea out.

"I should go." She said finally, when her eyes were beginning to droop and sleep was no longer something to be delayed.

"Thank you, for coming." Deacon said, standing up as she did. Even in her heels she was still a good few inches smaller than him, something he'd always like about her. They fit in that way. Like the typical 1800's couple.

"She's family. Before she is an artist she is family." Deacon just nodded and Rayna began to walk to the door. Ready to leave; go home and no doubt ring Luke. That thought made Deacon swallow his pride, the damned pride that was choking him, and say something else. Since Luke had acted so supremely offended by the fact that they had not told him about Maddie, he had had a growing uneasy feeling about the man. Despite the fact he had know him for so long.

"Rayna; I wanted you to know, I understand why you did it." He said, and she furrowed her brow a little, before responding.

"I wanted to give her the chances that we got. God knows she deserves them."

"No, I mean I understand why you didn't tell me about Maddie. Seeing this, as different as it may seem, seeing her laid up like this. I understand." Rayna felt like her breath had been stolen from her lungs, she didn't know how to respond. Didn't know what to say.

"If I could go back, if I'd known that the last time would work, I wouldn't have done it." She said, before looking up at him and meeting his dark brown orbs. "You're a great dad to her Deacon, to both of them. You can be as much of a part of her life as you want, I'll deal with Teddy."

He just smiled, and she nodded. Leaning forward she gently placed her lips on his stubble covered cheek and placed a kiss there. He then took her hand, and squeezed it. As simple as the whole series of actions were, it was the most intimate thing for them. Months without touching, and it left both of their hearts beating uncontrollably. Deacon didn't let go until both of them were too far apart. Then, once she was out the door, he sat back down on the hospital bed and places his head in his hands. Why did they always get back to moving in the same dance?

* * *

_This episode aired in England last week, and it just made me think how it all must have affected Deacon. I don't know how the show ends, but I'm guaranteeing more stories from me after the finale. _

_Please Review!_


End file.
